


Helpless

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Object Insertion, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Sex Magic, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 08:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Merlin wants Arthur in oh so many ways.





	Helpless

Ignoring the moans above him, Merlin looked down at Arthur's delicious pucker and gave it another, long lick. The taste of Merlin's come and oil burst in his mouth and he knew he had to delve further into it, to skim the tantalizing hole, to torment Arthur's already sensitive skin. And when that wasn't enough, Merlin thrust his tongue in, again and again, chasing the flavor mixed with Arthur's own heavy tang.

Arthur was shivered under Merlin's hand, struggling a little against the magical bonds, gasping, begging Merlin to stop. Giving a little chuckle, Merlin did just that, pulling back, breathing against Arthur's pucker, waiting for a different kind of plea to begin. When it didn't come - Arthur was a stubborn prat after all, Merlin turned and bit down on Arthur's vulnerable thigh. And with Arthur's startled yelp and another low moan, satisfied, Merlin straightened, then thrust three fingers into Arthur, abrupt and hard, searching, searching for just the right angle. And when Merlin found it, he pressed in, hunting, wanting to create once again that perfect spiral of pain into pleasure.

Arthur was helpless against him, in oh so many ways. The manacles were magic-bright in the fire-lit room, but it was the beat of Arthur's cock, the little spurts of pre-come glistening against his belly, the tightening bollocks that told Merlin Arthur had surrendered, was chasing the ecstasy even as Merlin denied it to him. 

Whispering another spell, golden cords wrapped around Arthur's cock and his vulnerable balls, and tightened just enough to keep Arthur from orgasm. For Merlin wasn't finished with Arthur.  Although he might have had him time and again throughout the night, Arthur's body covered in bites and scratches and come, Merlin would never tire of seeing Arthur helpless against him, would never tire of that beautiful mouth used, raw from kisses and pain and drying come, would never tire of listening to Arthur's voice undone by agony and ecstasy.

Merlin's fingers curled a little, eliciting another moan from Arthur, then pulling out, manhandling Arthur into position, Merlin thrust in again, this time his prick sheathing into that hot, wet hole. Into Arthur.

It was difficult not to give into the intensity of it, the bliss of being surrounded by Arthur's body, all that golden skin and all of Merlin's to have, to take, to do with as he wanted. Now and forever.

Beneath Merlin, Arthur's cock was a frantic heartbeat of movement and pre-come, and Merlin pulled out and shoved back in, harder this time. Arthur's eyes, until now black with pleasure/pain, rolled back in his head, and he begged for release, that raw sound spiraling up and up between them. 

It was enough. Merlin let the golden cords go, let Arthur have his pleasure at last, and it seemed to go on an eternity, come gleaming hot on Arthur's skin, Arthur's broken cries breathtaking and beautiful, even as his body shuddered in release. As Merlin watched, the shackles, magic and gleaming bright, were hard against Arthur's pale wrists, Arthur's hands, even in ecstasy, frenzied in his bonds. And the look on Arthur's face was everything Merlin could wish for, pleasure and pain and glorious surrender.

With that, Merlin's own orgasm poured through him, a universe of wild exultation, his magic, his life, his wants and needs, all flooding into Arthur. The perfect vessel for Merlin.

And the night wasn't over yet.

* * *

 

Flicking away dried come from Arthur's nipple, Merlin leaned down and licked it once, then swirled his tongue around the edges, caught rough with hair, and centering in, slowly, slowly. Even in Arthur's exhaustion, he was struggling to get away from Merlin's touch, his eyes glaring hatred blue, but he couldn't seem to help himself, and as Merlin bit down, Arthur let out a half-desperate groan and arched up into him. With a chuckle deep in his chest, Merlin laved the nipple, feeling it harden in his mouth. Merlin's hand swept down, past the mess between them, and stroked Arthur's soft prick.

Magic was more than just tricks and nonsense. It could invigorate, too, and Merlin had already used it several times to fuck Arthur into submission. But now he wanted Arthur hard and leaking again, wanted to see his struggles and his pleasure, his rage and his love, and enjoy hours without end in a lust-filled orgy of come and white heat. Merlin was getting hard again just thinking of it.

Arthur was coming alive under his hand, and as Merlin looked up, he could see Arthur fighting it, fighting him. The manacles around Arthur's wrists were glowing with the effort for escape, moving, pressing him hard against the bed as Arthur got more desperate. His legs, too, were shaking, trying to get free. All the while, Arthur was berating him, demanding release.  

Merlin gave a little laugh, then climbed over him, and reaching past Arthur's head, he drew out his scarf, stained with sweat and come, let it run through his fingers a moment. Arthur's eyes widened, but as he opened his mouth again, presumably to spit fury out at Merlin, Merlin pulled the cloth tight across Arthur's mouth, and tied it firmly so that Arthur could not wiggle free. The red of the cloth was a heady reminder of what they'd already done and what Merlin was about to do.  

Leaning over again, he whispered into Arthur's ear, "I'm not finished yet and neither are you."

Then reaching down under the bed, when he rose up again, Excalibur was in his hand.

Sharp and strong and imbued with heavy magic, it was a sacred thing, fit for a king.

Arthur grunted, shaking his head, his eyes stark with unease.

Merlin let Excalibur rest in his hand, heavy, the blade long and hard, then drew his fingers across the grip. "I've sharpened this sword many times, my lord, honing it to a fine edge, oiling it, stroking it. As if it were you in my hands, hard for me. A fine sword. Your sword."

Laying the flat of Excalibur across Arthur's chest, knowing that one false move and Arthur's skin would be marred with blood, Merlin was careful to lean over it, and ghost his mouth across Arthur's protests. Under him, he could feel Arthur's worry and agitation, too, and it made Merlin's cock harden even more.

"Let me in." But Arthur's reply was muffled under the cloth, and his hands busy with futile escape.

Merlin sat up again, feeling Arthur's cock soften a little under him. Later Merlin would want that cock in him, riding it and Arthur hard but not just yet. He had other plans for Arthur first.

Drawing the sword into his hand, careful not to cut all that golden skin, Merlin lifted up, then scraped the pommel down Arthur's side, past his now quiescent prick, into the jut of hipbone, tangling in wiry hair at his groin, and then working it slowly, slowly across one soft thigh.

"Open for me, Arthur." But Arthur shook his head, his limbs writhing as he tried desperately to get away. And Merlin wasn't about to let him go. One hand balancing the blade, his other hand smoothing the fine hairs on Arthur's leg, then thrusting one finger into his hole, into the remnants of come and oil that still lingered after all they'd done. Arthur was loose enough for two fingers, but not three and certainly not enough to take in the pommel of a fine blade. But Merlin was patient, working him open, watching the fine tremble of Arthur's chest and the fear in his eyes. "Careful, now, don't move. I wouldn't want to mar that perfect prick of yours."

There was another muffled protest and then Merlin worked Excalibur's fine pommel past the ring of muscle, watching Arthur's reaction as he pushed and pushed and pushed the grip into Arthur's body.

Arthur was groaning under the gag, and finally the guard was snug against Arthur's balls, the entrance into his body red and angry from everything they'd done but still glistening with oil and come. Merlin twisted the sword a little, searching, the pommel deep enough to rub against that special spot inside Arthur. He was careful not to let the edge scrap against Arthur's skin, but thinking that wounding Arthur might ruin the moment, Merlin wrapped the blade up in magic, dulling it for now. He didn't let Arthur know, though. Fear and pleasure were often two sides of the same ecstatic coin and he wanted Arthur to feel all of it.

But it didn't matter. With the grip deep inside, Arthur squirmed and shifted and grew hard again as he tried to get away and couldn't and the blade seemed to pulse with every heartbeat and it was glorious.

For a moment, Merlin just knelt there, watching his king writhe, watching pre-come leak onto Arthur's belly in a smear of lust. A feast for the eyes and Merlin never wanted it to end. Still muzzled, Arthur protesting every moment, Merlin smiled down at him.

Then as carefully as he could, not wanting to jostle the guard, he climbed onto Arthur's hips, and a few twists of his hand, Arthur's prick as hard as ever, Merlin bore down, and all that intense heat, that steel-hard cock of Arthur's, shoved into Merlin's body. Arthur was inside him, pulling and pushing, trying to get away, trying to get closer. Merlin reached back, making sure the guard seated between Arthur's balls, then, feeling the coldness of the steel guard against his spine, he shifted a little. Arthur groaned again. The way Merlin moved would move the grip inside Arthur and it was like chasing lust, chasing ecstasy, as every shudder seemed to reach for a universe of pleasure. The white heat was spiraling up. Each time Merlin rode Arthur, pulling up and slamming back into him, was like lightning sparking across his skin and finally Merlin gave in, letting his lust pulse out all over Arthur's stomach, a mess of come and heat.

Under him, Arthur grew harder still, then Merlin could feel Arthur's release, hot and wet and incredible inside him. As Merlin came down from his own high, he climbed off Arthur, then leaning back, carefully pulled the sword from Arthur's body.

Arthur was still shaking from his orgasm and everything that had been done to him. He lay there, exhausted as Merlin lay the sword aside. Arthur didn't protest, didn't try to escape his bonds, just watched as Merlin reached inside himself and gathered some of Arthur's come and then dragged fingers through Merlin's own release cooling on Arthur's stomach. 

Mixing the heady remains of their pleasure together, with his other hand, Merlin pulled Arthur's gag free. Before Arthur could protest or beg or do anything else, Merlin thrust his fingers into Arthur's mouth, letting him taste what they had done, come and oil and ecstasy in a glorious mix of lust and bliss.  Then Merlin thrust into Arthur's mouth, fucking him with fingers and tongue until Arthur gave a soft moan and began to kiss him back.  

And the night was still not done.

* * *

There was bruises on Arthur's skin, his thighs littered with Merlin's passion, his hole a red mess of come and rough use. After all they'd done, Arthur would feel the pain of it, inside and out. The pommel of Excalibur was not forgiving and while Merlin wanted Arthur to remember everything they'd done, he didn't want him damaged, certainly not enough to preclude another round of sex and pain. And submission.

Skimming his fingers across Arthur's cock, now laying quiescent against one lust-mottled thigh, Merlin's touch was light this time, not demanding but soft, gentle. As Arthur lay there exhausted from their hours of passion, Merlin wanted Arthur to be uneasy, unready for the next round, making what he was about to do as unexpected as this entire night had been. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of that glorious prick, then pushed his fingers back into Arthur, only two this time, enough to feel but not to demand. Above him, Arthur groaned, breathing heavily as he begged, his voice weak, unsteady, for Merlin to stop. But that wasn't an option, not for them, not until the night was over.

Merlin gave Arthur's prick another gentle lick, playing with the slit, a burst of dried come on his tongue, feeling Arthur begin to stir again even as he moaned out his protest. Magic had its uses after all. And Merlin would never be satisfied with a few rounds of ecstasy, not when he could drive Arthur wild once more.

Magic had other uses, too, and Merlin sent a healing spell deep into Arthur, repairing the bruises inside, leaving the ache behind, but not the ravages of their passion. It wouldn't do for Arthur to forget just why they were here.

But he didn't heal the rest. The bruises on Arthur's skin were not just simple damage, fading with time, but signs of binding, of power. And Merlin had to admit that he wanted the marks to stay, to remind them both of what they'd done.

Arthur would feel that ache for days after, and Merlin rejoiced in that knowledge.

Taking Arthur into his mouth, sucking deep a moment, feeling Arthur harden still further, Merlin pulled back a bit and let his tongue play, swirling around the tip, gathering pleasure with every sweep, every movement. His fingers, too, were back inside Arthur, brushing up against that perfect spot, pulling Arthur, protesting, back into their pain/pleasure dance.

Arthur was mumbling, saying that he couldn't, that it was too much, that he wasn't strong enough to, but Merlin knew better. Arthur was one of the bravest men he'd ever known and if Merlin demanded it of him, he'd give it, even unwillingly.  And Merlin wanted it all.

The manacles were still gleaming bright in the growing dawn but Arthur's hands weren't pulling at them as he had done before, merely holding on with the last of his strength. His eyes were defiant, though, storm-blue and laced with exhaustion.

With a last swirl of his tongue, Merlin pulled off, then whispered a spell, watching his magic sink into Arthur. As it took hold, with Arthur's every breath, tiny bursts of light bubbled across Arthur's skin. It was not pain but pleasure bursting there, small but brilliant increments of growing ecstasy, a reminder of just how much Merlin could pull from Arthur, and how much more there was to go. A thousand mouths, a thousand heated touches, and as Merlin's hand swept over Arthur, he seemed to gather it all up, all the pain and pleasure, and push it back into Arthur, as if Excalibur were sinking deep inside him again, as if the sword was made of light and bliss unending, and Arthur the sheath for it.

Arthur cried out then, his back arching, his voice raw, his eyes rolling back, and for a brief moment, Merlin thought he'd gone too far. There were tears coating Arthur's cheeks, and his face was a stark mask of horror and infinite delight. Then he was pouring out his lust, ropes and ropes of come coating his belly, as he were made only of heat and ecstasy and it was hollowing him out until nothing was left.

With a final cry, Arthur collapsed back down into the bed. A wave of his hand and Merlin dispersed the magic, let it sink back into the earth and sky. In the distance, he could see trees bright with flowers, the trill of bird song growing stronger with the dawn.

Arthur lay there, breathing, quiet, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Merlin leaned down, whispered into Arthur's mouth, "It's over, Arthur. It is done. Rest now."

And with another wave of his hand, the manacles vanished and the dried come, but not the bruises nor the look on Arthur's face of wonder and ferocity.

"One night, Arthur. One night of magic to bring peace to all the land."  

What Merlin didn't say was that he would hold the memory of their night together and keep it close, even as his king turned from him. One night to remember for all time. To bring peace to Albion. But Merlin had to admit that he'd have sacrificed everything, just to hold Arthur in his arms once more.

Straightening up, pulling the bed linens over Arthur's nude form, putting on a simple robe to cover up his own nakedness, Merlin said, "I hope you can forgive me, Sire."

When Arthur said nothing, just closed his eyes a moment, Merlin nodded to himself, then turned to go. He knew that Arthur would not, would never see Merlin in the same way again. The loss of it almost overwhelmed him, but he'd done what he had to for Arthur's sake, and that would have to be enough.

There was a whisper from the bed, Arthur's voice shaking, "Merlin…," As Merlin turned back, surprised, Arthur said, "Did you think I'd let you go after that? After what we shared?"

"I… thought…." Merlin didn't know what he thought, only that Arthur would never want to see him again.

"Idiot, you don't think." There, hidden in the rough exhaustion on Arthur's face was the beginnings of a smile.  "Who knew that tongue of yours was good for more than just babbling. I'll expect you here tonight for round… ummmm, seven, eight? Honestly I've lost track."

"Arthur? I…." Merlin couldn't believe his ears.

"You are wearing the manacles next time. And no more ratty scarves for a gag. I'll have a proper one made up." When Merlin's mouth fell open in surprise, Arthur said, "Now go away and get some sleep. You'll need your strength for round…?"

"Nine, Arthur, round nine." And with that, Merlin bowed, and turned away, walking out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

An instant later, he slumped to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and cradling his head in his hands. As drained of strength and courage and magic as he'd ever been, all he could do was sit there on the cold floor and try to breathe.  

He thought he'd lost Arthur forever, thought that the rough play and sex magic would drive his king to exile him or worse. Instead, Arthur expected Merlin to - what, have another go this evening, that they'd suck and fuck and tear into each other with such ferocious lust that neither of them would be able to walk for a week, getting covered in oil and come as they descended into ecstasy again and again.  

Oh, all the gods above, Merlin hoped so. Because even now, with Arthur's scent still lingering on his fingers, he was growing hard again. He wanted to turn around, and sink back into that perfect heat and never come out.

But Arthur needed rest, needed recovery. Merlin may have magic, be able to recuperate more quickly than most, but he'd not hurt Arthur again, at least not unless Arthur wanted him to.

No, he'd do as Arthur asked, sleep, eat, gather enough strength to go for another round or two or more at dusk. And in the meantime, if Merlin found a few toys to bring with him, so much the better.

Merlin couldn't wait.

The end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a troll on AO3 on one of my PG stories and he kept talking about how people who write porn have low standards and why would anyone write Merlin and Arthur having sex since it wasn't in the show. I was polite at the beginning, but as he kept replying with more and more ugly things to say, I'd had enough. So I told him that I'd write porn every time he replied. I'm not sure it worked (he hasn't gone yet and I did file an abuse report) but I did write a bit of explicit porn to try and scare him away. I figured I might as well post it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.


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